A Farewell to Spoons It is with heavy heart and profound regret that I bring forth the tragic news: the infamous and annoying Bimbosigliere of Spoons has raided his last raid, garnered his last silence, and written his last boot haiku. He has fallen to the Dark Lord that rules the Land of Boredom, and his SW has been carried home upon his Spoon, to find that final rest he never knew in life. If mod chat could please lower their jubilation to a moderate roar....I'd like to continue. And Beekeo, I hardly think singing "Ding Dong! The Bims is dead. Which old Bims? The Wicked Bims! Ding Dong! The Wicked Bims is dead!" is hardly appropriate at the moment, and may I say, a bit disrespectful. After all, Bims' gs sales accounted for that Happy Meal you had the other day. So could we please have a sense of decorum? Thank you! Bimbosigliere, or Bims as he was affectionately, or more likely, just conveniently known, began life 27 months ago in Eld; now known as Magic's Playground. He then left to help create the Oda guild chain; now known as the Oda guild chain, and soon became the most illustrious (in his mind) Shogun of Oda in history, where he possessed the secret of The Three Big O's: Omnipresence, Omnipotence, and Omniscience. (Sorry, ladies, if I dashed any hopes.) Handcuffed to serve as GM of three of the five guilds led him to attempt seppuku, but at the last moment was spoon mobbed and saved! Spoon mobs....sigh. Finally being able to raid something higher than Skar, he attained the top 35th might in the game!! Yeah, I know!! Bims!! 35th in might!! Bims!! Keep in mind, SWs were actually good back then. But, as the popularity of BoH surged, bringing in many who simply bought their might, and the frequent nerfings of SWs (anybody else think the "S" means street?), Bims was transformed into a shell of a toon, left with nothing but bitter resentment, soon taking his frustrations out on the ignorant, unwashed heathen mobs of global and the forums, like an old man trying to send back soup in a diner. In the end he was left with nothing but his twisted and petty enjoyment of putting role players, stupid and/or uptight people, and finally, realizing a lifetime dream, even a mod on ignore. Yes, it truly is possible to silence green text!! Then came that fateful day… Some say all the malevolent forces of hell were unleashed that day, my friends; the soothsayers spoke of dark portents, the beasts were in a frenzy of disquiet. Whatever lurked beyond that hazy shadow of malice kept many denizens of Glenfort at bay, including some of it's most doughty heroes. And yet Bims stood undaunted before the countless hordes of evil and oppression. For though his SW was slow, weak and rather unfashionably attired, in his hand he held a Spoon. And etched into the depths of his soul he possessed the qualities of Spoonshido; the way of the Spoon. For Death is not the adversary of a spoonurai, simply a companion that walks beside him, and awaits to greet him when he's finally called Home. Nay, it was not the cessation of life that Bims feared, but the silencing of a child's innocent laugh; the shackling of a comely young maidens coquettish wiles as she lured in her prey; the oppression of the unalienable rights of all sentient beings, be they human, ratheen or troll, to make fools of themselves before their peers. Bims had sought neither might nor glory, as his barren wagons could attest. Instead he had chosen to champion the cause of the feeble, the destitute, the downtrodden; his Spoon only unsheathed for those in direst need, preferably against the much maligned Plaguerider Skar, whom he could almost dispatch with one vigorous swing! But, alas, across the width and breadth of Glenfort whispered rumors of trepidation and dismay began to spark into a great conflagration. A hostile enemy had arisen to conquer the free peoples, turning them into grinding slaves; bent on wanton destruction, until all the world succumbed to silent darkness. Thus, Bims girded on his armor, and brought forth his battle-weary Spoon; and he avowed, by life or death, he would vanquish this new menace to the expanse of Glenfort he cherished so zealously and to the multitude, whom he called his kindred, be they of the gentry or the commons. So, saying farewell to hearth and drawer, Bims embarked upon a quest to rid the motherland of this odious destroyer. Across frigid vales and over towering mountains. Through the dismal forest of Ebian, and across the fiery moors where dragons held sway he traveled, wearied but never wavering. Even when hope ebbed to sepulchral frustration whilst trudging relentlessly the endless bogs and mires of the dreaded Fellmarsh, he adamantly continued on his journey, tenaciously determined to fulfill his objective. Through many trials and tribulations he endured, only to discover more tedious exertions, a seemingly incessant grind. Ultimately, it was only by the dubious advice of a smarmy little fellow named Majerio, who seemed little more than a used cart salesman, did Bims finally ferret out the chimerical Vile Realm; where, if the whispers were true, the source of the infection originated like a festering wound. With renewed fortitude he ascended the many floors of the Sanctuary, implacable and fey, to the very Pinnacle; however worn by ponderous days and spoontressless nights, Bims was resolute to end the threat against his brethren, forevermore. It was then that an ominous cacophony of myriad hellish voices rose up in a chorus of malignant loathing, like a torrent of damned souls lamenting in Tartarus. Voracious flames burst asunder the swirling mists and a fearsome abomination was spawned unto the world. Hideous to behold, a slavering, mindless horror, devoid of all reason or emotion, driven only by an omnivorous abhorrence of all that's good and chaste. Born from the darkest pits of the eighteen hells of Diyu; an amalgamation of every depraved trait known to the world of men. A creature bred from nescience and pretension, only it's puerile need for adoration brought some vestige of mortal facade. It wielded a mighty hammer that silenced all who sought to oppose it, leaving a wide trail of carnage in it's wake. Scattered about the landscape cowered the forlorn and wretched noobs, frozen by terror; their blanched faces tinted green by a glow of vile putrescence. The broken bodies of illustrious and puissant warriors lay amidst their shattered axes, staffs and shields. Crzy, who had slain millions of it's minions, was powerless before it. Ciazanna, for all his might, likewise fell lifeless to the ground. Patsy, Alan, KennyG--all had fought valiantly; all had succumbed. And Shekka...never stood a chance. The rumors that he ran away "crying like a little girl" are nothing more than unsubstantiated gossip!! Takes more than 178 eye witness accounts to determine something as fact, rather than what is obviously mere speculation! But, I digress... The few ragged survivors of the decimation would bring back harrowing tales from the carnage of an abominable monstrosity, and of the solitary, defiant figure who stood unwavering afore it. Depicted as a demon of luminescent greenish flame that undulated like a desert asp gathering for the strike, it towered above the mortals of the world, bellowing out it's disdain and vitriol towards all who discoursed in the immaculate vernacular. It's grotesque body a construct of reanimated flesh, scales and noxious slime, it arduously lumbered about, drooling venom that mutilated and wrought death by the scores. It's vacuous gaze fell upon the gullible like poisoned daggers, obliterating thought and wit in a flash, turning a multitude into a herd of sycophantic zombies, recognized by the green of their noses. Begat by evil sorcerers like Dave and Lady Katy, it was multi-faced, with tongues of legion, no sooner would one be dispatched, a dozen more would appear, breeding like maggots on the rotting carcasses that satiate the rapacious vultures. And it's name was Mod. As dawnless night began to shroud the countryside in a quiescent murk, Mod rampaged recklessly wielding it's hammer with inconsistent abandon, striking down the brave, the illustrious and the innocent alike; the noble warrior and the wide-eyed neophyte; and even the infantile and craven who seemed enamored of climbing trees for reasons unknown to rational minds. Yet, alone, amidst the breathless and the broken, stood Bimbosigliere. His eyes were red with sorrow, as he gazed across the littered fields, recognizing the countenance of many a cherished friend who had erstwhile fought alongside him, but would, alas! nevermore. But although his eyes were moist, his heart desolate; his feet were firmly planted upon the battlefield, and his will was resolute: hardened like a newly forged blade. Here he would make his stand! He raised his Spoon, both in challenge and salute, for a true spoonurai never holds malice for his opponent; for the qì must be calm, the soul tranquil; and it is only proper to show respect to a worthy adversary. Crying "Spoonzai!" Bims leapt into the fray, and with vehement strokes he smote his enemy. But, this was no mere creature of simple evil! No! Bims faced a wight born from the foulest depths of Venan's twisted collective mind, who dodged and dodged and dodged and resisted and dodged and MISSed and dodged yet again!! His Blood Oath armor was rent, his Amulet of Creation shorn away in a perilous, near fatal stroke. Crimson stained his visage in untold places. Yet Bims gave no quarter, even as his energy ebbed, for he knew that he alone could withstand the relentless enmity, could stay the wanton tyrannical oppression of Mod. Bims looked into the dull eyes of the mindless fiend, and he knew that, victory or defeat, he would never again see his Spoonland in waking life. So, with a mighty voice that echoed throughout Glenfort, the indomitable Bims cried his defiance: "You may take my life, but you'll never take...my SPOONDOM!" The battle raged furiously on. 'Twas best that no bystander stood near to bear witness, for their conflict would make the fair sex swoon and veterans of bloody strokes turn away. No songs would be sung, no poems would be written of the grievous duel, for some things are better left untold. But Bims fought not for glory, nor immortal fame, only for vengeance so that the dead may sleep in peace. No mortal had ever withstood the dreadful wounds that Bims endured, and no being had ever known the chastisement that he admonished upon his foe. And it was only at the last, when Bims felt he had not strength left to deal another blow, did Mod turn, and quit the field, scampering it's way to a secret lair where it's brethren gathered to plot their nefarious deeds upon the world; there to nurse it's wounds, and rekindle it's enmity for a day, a month, a quick age of man. And so Bimbosigliere stood alone upon the battlefield: a solitary figure among the carnage. His armour in tatters, his body battered, covered in blood of both red and green. If this was victory it was bittersweet and empty. It was then that Bims glanced down. And suddenly his resolve broke, a sudden gasp burst forth, and a single, crystalline tear mournfully spilt from his eye. Crumpled on the ground, lay chat....dead. And then darkness took Bims, and he knew no more. Upon consciousness, he solemnly knelt aside the disfigured remains, chanting several sutras. He rose, and bowed deeply in profound reverence to the fallen. Bims bent to wipe the blood off the beloved face. He kissed the cold lips as unashamedly he wept. Memories washed over him of chat; young and vivacious, whimsical, mischievous, even risqué at times. Composing himself, he once more knelt, and he laid his wakispoonshi lovingly before him. Opening his spoonmono, he paused, staring into the abyss of an eternal winter's night. And then, slowly, a smile bent Bims' lips; for he saw through the clearing mists, across a vast expanse with a golden dawn, old friends, long since gone, calling to him. He made the first cut, and the pain was like a quick, sweet poison that coursed over his being. No trusted second awaited behind, ready to free him of his earthly cares. But, it was, as he knew, as it should be: it was just. For Bims had failed his oath of the spoonurai; to lay down one's own life to protect the weak. Yet, the code gave a chance to keep his honor, to save face and atone for his transgression. A second time did he plunge his wakispoonshi into his vitals, and though the pain wracked his soul with a feverish outcry, Bims never quailed, nor uttered a sound. And as his life's blood did stain the ground sacred red, he continued to kneel in penance. Between one breath and another his eyes did dim, his strength flagged and he toppled softly to the ground, his Spoon still held firmly in his grasp. Bims had gone Home...

Author's footnote: it was my original intention to polish this up nicely from a rough draft, but as it dragged on my desire to leave the game trumped my need to do this right. So, my apologies to those who enjoyed it, and for those who didn't, please whisper Shekka so he can add your name to my ignore list. I'd like to think it'll continue flourishing long after I'm gone!!

Last edited by Bimbosigliere on Fri Mar 04, 2016 2:46 am, edited 2 times in total.

Last Will and Spoonament I, Bimbosigliere of Spoons, one time consigliere to the Spoonfather, Mattakai, who was deposed in a bloodless coup d'état by Queen Patsy; one time Shogun over Oda, where I ruled with absolute power to an adoring throng; one time bane to all those of colored text, be they green or gold: being of sound mind and body, so called, do hereby bequeath to the following Spoons, past, present and hypothetical:To Beekeo; Two or three times you were almost a Spoon, and it's a good thing for you it never came to pass: you would have left the game, and your job, in tears. But, in remembrance of the only dev who ever deigned to whisper me back, I bequeath a case of vintage elderberry wine, and an iPod filled with nothing but Zeppelin, Rush, ELP, Beatles, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Dean Martin, Sinatra, Ah Mui, etc… Not one single Bieber!To Mith; I bequeath to you the unenviable task of trying to fight the ignorant and uptight on the forums. Your mixture of wisdom and entertainment are the only thing that make the whole place palatable. Not much of a gift, I know. So I'm throwing in $3 and my justi, so you can at least raid!To CrzySpoon; Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know! You consider yourself mainly a HJ guy, I've always been a BJ man myself, but it's a matter of preference, I suppose. Still, you embody what makes a true Spoon. To you I leave a years supply of white-out. Your forum responses tend to be….a bit colorful, shall we say. And, though they entertain me, we must remember that the game is for an audience of an IQ of 9+! What? 9+ is an age stipulation? Could have fooled me!(singing) To all the Spoontresses I've loved before; I really meant to whisper you the day after, but I lost your id. Really, I did! Anyway, I leave all my gs to you, and any unintended offspoons that may have occurred. Split it up fairly amongst yourselves. I left it in a safety deposit box at the Glenfort bank, under the name Bimanova.To BJ; I leave my copy of "Forum Posts for Dummies" Dude!! You need to connect with your audience!!To Shark; I leave all the squires valor I accumulated soloing GG 100 times for the heroic feat you told us about. Asshat!To Zali; I leave all of my impure shadows, and a piece of advice: it's true, everything is Shekka's fault, but you need to work on your comedic timing! Quality, not quantity!To Jedi; I leave to you, my most cherished secret of the game: how to get a mod on perma ignore. Use it sparingly, however, global is already boring enough without a complement of mods to troll.To Celeste; My one time protégé, and successor as the all-powerful Shogun of Oda. I know it couldn't be easy ruling in my shadow, because goshdarnit! I was just so spectacular!! And you're probably still mad at me for throwing the crown at you and bolting to Spoons to get the hell away. So, I leave to you my heartfelt apologies, and an offer to Photoshop your Kik pic. Cute girl, but you look like an Oompa Loompa with it all tinted orange!!To Patsy; I give to you a set of plastic wine glasses, because eventually, when you fall off the roof, you really don't want a lot of shattered glass on the groundTo Cia; For the toon who has everything, I give you nothing, because that's the only thing you don't haveTo Alan_nnn; First off, never known anyone who stuttered in text. But it's all good brah!! Probably the nicest, most pleasant person in the guild, yet you're like the invisible Spoon! After every raid it's "good job Cia, Patsy, and that other guy" and when you tell that rare joke: if it's funny people just assume it's me; if it's not they naturally think Matta. So, to help set you out from the drawer, I'm bequeathing to you my hot pink text when it finally gets approved by Lord Venan.To Draz; Any friend of KaiN's is a friend of mine. So to you I give all the feminine hygiene products that KaiN threw my way! When you see him next, throw them back!To Decispoon; A young, idealistic conspoonacist. To you I leave my silences so that when added with yours, you'll be that much closer to a perma ban--the only fool-proof way to resist temptation for BoHing again.To Ding; I hereby bequeath a weeks worth of, only slightly soiled, boxer shorts. My god, man!! Sometimes when you raid your kilt rises up. Nobody needs to see that!To Shadow; I was going to leave you my signed copy of Machiavelli's The Prince, but seems you've already mastered it. Instead I leave you, and all of England: Scotland, forever and anon, as is your right. I mean, they don't even know how to vote YES!! I heard William Wallace is applying for Irish citizenship posthumously.To Eli; I leave my only role play costume set I've ever used: cop/donut. I lost the instruction manual but it's rather self-explanatory. You're the cop stopping at a Krispy Kreme, and your little missus plays the donut. So you eat her! One piece of advice; make sure your webcam is turned off!To Tiger; You taught me the brilliance of the boot haiku: simple, charming, doesn't need to rhyme. Since yours were all rather lame, I leave a compendium of some of my most revered works. Such as: sedalB sallies forth, the drawer bursts with lazy Spoons my boot, your butt--BYE!To Neph; A pioneer of both Spoons and the game. Your generous and tactful diplomacy have been sorely missed. Thanks to you I woke up every morning to find myself booted outta Spoons! Not even with a boot haiku to lessen the bruises on my ass! To you I leave my copy of The Crying Game, cuz to be honest, I'm still spoonfused!To Mykul; Your rants are the stuff of legend. I just wish you'd share them with more than Spoon Council. So I'm having a Spoon podcast set up so you can expound upon any subject that annoys you. And with KaiN retired, I suggest you require new Spoon recruits to listen to a minimum of five rants to see if they have the mettle to be a Spoon, or if their delicate little feelings will be offended. Don't want no PC wimps in Spoons!To Tbone; You almost got me to start whispering Jordanna. So I leave you my geisha account, with little Yukie-chan. She's been trained in many arts such as dance, shamisen, chanoyu, and titillating conversation. Her coquetry can bring the most staid to their knees. But, don't bother with Shekka; if your name ain't Sherpa, you ain't getting nowhere!To Drach; I leave my collection of top 250 weekly hs medals, cuz you never saw oneTo Sherpa; who once bought me gs, I'm really excited about this one!! Vanilla Ice will be paying you a visit shortly to teach you how to be gangsta!! Only cost $20 for a week's instruction!

To Kain; (censored, then outright deleted by Venan. Twice!)To Cerri; I'll never forget that drunken night in the bushes. Top spot of classic BoH moments! Truly one of my favorite players in the game, and it's never been the same since you left, and a big reason I took a 7 month rage quit, and am now finally retiring permanently To you I leave my love. Not like a man loves a woman; more like how a man loves a woman, then the next night loves a different woman and another on the following night, and so on. Maybe grudgingly calling her up again if it's a slow night and can't find someone new, or he's sick and just needs her to come over to cook some soup. THAT kind of love. Same thing, really. I know, I know .... -___________________-To Matta; the only toon who stood a chance against me in ChatVChat, I leave my texting ability. Cuz 50% accuracy with fat fingers and ac on, is still higher than your 20%. Despite what Neph always said, you were the one who enticed me to bolt from Oda and become a Spoon!! Though your offer of making me an officer did sort of lose it's luster when I joined and found out that every damn person in the guild was an officer. Except for William, of course. The only Spoon I ever met in real life, and even though you're sans spoobs, it was still a lotta fun!To Shekka; my dearest, darling, one time idol (until I realized you actually didn't know anything about a SW), I've thought long and hard about what to give you! Since I doubt there are any unsullied moose left for you to sully, I am simply giving to you...my Spoon. Though it wasn't very mighty, very big, very quick, very....let's face it, anything, it still was my Spoon. I always spent a lot of time polishing it while watching many short, poorly acted videos on the Internet. And so, from your Bimsypoo, I bequeath it to you. (You might want to wash it off first.)I assume if you're still reading at this point I've kept you entertained, or you are just really, really bored!! Almost done!!A big heartfelt thanks go out to Spoons, truly the best of times! Except for the birth of my daughter, Kiana; my trip to Italy; my marriage; Kaye; Joanne; Feng; Maria; Sharon; Masako; Tina; Michelle; Christine; Phung; another Maria; Katie; ....ok, this list goes on awhile and I'd just be making up names at this point, cuz tbh I'd probably only be able to recall about 5% of them!! Anyway, you get the point. Spoons was the best thing ever after all of them! Except Shelly, she wasn't all that good. :/Thank you Venan for a game that gave me eight months of pleasure. It was almost as good as....Shelly. Let me elaborate in an age appropriate manner: even a night of substandard pizza is better than eight months of an app game. Capiche?Thanks also to global; the words of Bimbo Baggins seem rather apropos here: I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I dislike more than half of you half as well as you deserve. And to the 1,100+ I have on ignore? Believe me, it was better for everyone that I put you there!!Thank you all once again, it's been fun, and now it's over, time to hang up my spoons and say farewell:Wish I knew how to do that ascii thing KaiN used to do…Anyway….., bye!!Bims has left the building.....Let the celebrations commence

Last edited by Bimbosigliere on Fri Mar 04, 2016 2:47 am, edited 2 times in total.

it'Bims its a sad day to see you finally leave (if you are actually leaving forever??) - but atleast you finally got your hot pink text!!With regards to Machiavellis The Prince as you rightly assumed I have mastered the work but your bequeathment of Scotland will do nicely - as you say they really want to be English deep down!

There are too many quotes from The Prince which could apply to you but I leave you with the following two that I believe you may enjoy:

For your intellect:'Because there are three classes of intellects: one which comprehends by itself; another which appreciates what others comprehend; and a third which neither comprehends by itself nor by the showing of others; the first is the most excellent, the second is good, the third is useless.'

For your treatment of Devs, Mods and Noobs:'And here comes in the question whether it is better to be loved rather than feared, or feared rather than loved. It might perhaps be answered that we should wish to be both; but since love and fear can hardly exist together, if we must choose between them, it is far safer to be feared than loved.'